


sentimental

by ninata



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Brooding, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Spoilers, Morning After, angst at the tail end, love hotel shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninata/pseuds/ninata
Summary: Feelings do not come easy for Kokichi. After a particularly exhausting night, he tries (and fails) not to ruminate.





	sentimental

**Author's Note:**

> updated 12-13-18 to fix a bit of pre-eng release misinfo

In a room with no windows, there obviously isn't a way for sunlight to creep in through them. The typical beginning of the morning after, therefore, is out of the question. Kokichi wakes up entirely because of his internal clock, and blinks wearily as he adjusts to the light of the love hotel's neon signage. The inside of the rooms are hilariously gaudy, but it gets old quickly. How he managed to sleep in such a bright room was a mystery.

Or, well. Supposedly. Hours of sex will tire anyone out. Even him. Punctuating that thought is a sore pang in his pelvis. Feels like it got hit with a sledgehammer. He shifts uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than to lock himself in a bathroom for the rest of the day. His dorm room seems very appealing, and there isn't much stopping him from heading that way.

There is, however, an arm slung around his body. Much too familiar for his tastes, but he permits it. Saihara's breaths are steady and slow, his skin lit up in pink hues. The gentle curve where his shoulder meets his back, the slopes of his neck. He almost looks like he's made out of candy. Taffy? Something like that. Soft but firm, still undeniably male. The hum of the lights is quiet, the cranking of the mechanical horse steady and sure, some kind of hilarious mixture of ambient noise that makes Saihara's slumbering form seem all the more surreal. Something unattainable, something ethereal and beyond his affections. Or...something.

He's also drooling, which Kokichi finds more creepy than endearing. He hopes it didn't get in his hair. But, but. That brings attention to his lips. Kokichi notes the part between, no curve or tension in them. Perfectly slack, gentle and serene. He's really knocked out, isn't he? You'd think Kokichi drugged him. Buuuut even an evil dictator like him wouldn't stoop that low.

He thinks about kissing him. It's brief, and he doesn't entertain it for long. Saihara's not awake to embarrass, and there's nothing fun in kissing someone who can't respond. No point in that! But…

...He must still be half asleep. He carefully removes Saihara's arm, scooting to the edge of the bed. Every movement aches, and he dreads the moment his feet hit the ground. It's gonna be a bitch getting past the horse. Why did he think this was a good idea? Even if this was a well stocked love hotel, he definitely overestimated himself. He makes a mental note to stop after coming twice, swinging his legs over the sheets. Ow. He's steeling himself to get to his feet when he feels Saihara stir.

"Mm…" Nothing about that should've made his heart beat faster, but it did. He's frozen in place. "...Ouma...kun?"

"Saihara-chan~!" His voice is hoarse. Good thing he doesn't ever bother explaining himself to the others, cuz boy. It'd be a hell of a chore trying to dismiss suspicion. "Goo~d morning. Did you sleep well? You did, right? You tooootally slept like a rock. I'm kind of impressed!"

He looks back. Saihara's naked— which is the opposite of a surprise, really. He knew he was from the beginning, considering neither of them brought anything for pajamas, but he still gets embarrassed. Not like an idiot like Saihara would notice! His smile doesn't change. You'd need a magnifying glass to figure that one out. Or a microscope.

"...What time is it?"

"No idea!"

Saihara has a nice body; soft around the edges, but sturdy. His body hair is light for the most part, but Kokichi can catch the starts of pubic hair. Staring would be waaaay too amateur, so he relies on his peripherals to take in the scene properly. His focus is Saihara's face. Saihara's bedhead is...kind of handsome, in a way. But he'd never say that.

Saihara props himself up on his elbow, rubbing his face with the other hand. The sheets drape across him. He almost looks like some Roman statue, some hero with long eyelashes and thin fingers; or maybe thoughtful modern art? The kind that laments society's advancements. _Venus in marble, but in a love hotel room._ Yeah, he can see that. That kind of ass-patting seems right up Saihara's alley.

"There...are showers here, right?" He looks for himself before Kokichi can confirm. "I should…"

"Yep! You definitely should shower. Saihara-chan may be the kind of skulking, greasy type that doesn't keep up his hygiene, buuuut somebody's bound to notice if you smell like sex, right?" 'Smell like sex'. That phrase is super unpleasant, but there isn't much better phrasing for saying 'like cum, lube and sweat'.

"T-That's, er...I-I guess…" He looks humiliated by the blunt statement. Kokichi backtracks.

"It's okay~. If I was really grossed out, I wouldn't be here with you, right?"

Saihara doesn't respond.

"Mmhmhm~. You know, maybe we'll end up smelling similar...that's pretty suspect, right? Everyone's gonna notice we were up to something~. Nee-heehee." Having their 'involvement' be public knowledge is a pretty hard no, but if he said he wasn't possessive, he'd be a liar. Good thing he's a liar!

"I-I don't think anyone will notice…"

"You sure? Iruma-chan is pretty nosy. Aha! Nosy, like smells? That's a good one! Oh, and Gonta is basically a beast, so I bet he'd smell it immediately. E~veryone will know juuuust how familiar we got with each other last night~." To be frank, he doesn't even want to think about that. If everyone somehow worked out the fact they were fucking behind everyone's backs, Kokichi would lock himself in his room and never leave ever again. It'd definitely scare Saihara away from him for good. But, if he talks about it lightheartedly, nobody will tell it makes him nervous! Joking about things helps, right?

"I guess that's true...We'll have to be careful, then…" He seems distracted. Kokichi stretches his arms.

"Oka~y. Then let's get hustling!" He's about to get to his feet when he hears the sheets rustle.

"Um…" Saihara leans closer. "B-Before you get up, uh...is it okay if...I…"

Despite the pink lighting, Kokichi sees the color in his cheeks. He frowns.

"If Saihara-chan is trying to get frisky again, that's no good. Maybe Saihara-chan feels better, but there's noooo way I'm going to—"

"T-That's not...! I wasn't...I just wanted to kiss you."

"Ara? Is that so?" Kokichi's heart clenches painfully. He ignores it. "Well, I guess if it's just that."

He almost leans away when Saihara leans in further, staring at his lips as his tongue darts out over them. His body grinds to a halt as Saihara's hand grazes his, settling in a loose grip around his forearm. His face gets closer.

It's over in an instant. Kokichi catches himself lingering, and pulls his head back to combat the notion. He's not flustered, and he's most certainly not needy. He doesn't want more. He's about to turn his head away when their faces collide again. Their noses bump painfully, but Saihara's clumsiness can be forgiven. The pressure makes his heartbeat louder in his ears; he tests his luck, opening his mouth just a bit. Saihara, being a desperate idiot, doesn't disappoint.

Saihara must've still been drooling, because the kiss is _wet._ It's actually pretty unpleasant. He doesn't grab onto Saihara's shoulder, definitely doesn't tilt his body into him. Pressure again, his body is warm. Something familiar— he likes the way Saihara's tongue feels against his, hates how something this gross can feel good. Make him this confused, make him wish he didn't have a fucking heart to beat so obnoxiously hard. Kokichi's chest could burst, something important could rupture, what they have isn't even _tangible_ but his body wants to tear itself apart and cease function over it anyway. Is he still half asleep? Normally he's not this sentimental. Saihara rocks forward, Kokichi rocks back. Comforting pressure. Pressure that makes him feel like he's just as much of an idiot as Saihara is.

But that's stupid.

He pulls away to breathe. There's spit all down his chin, but Saihara is...is. That's one kind of look, his mouth hanging open like that, kind of...glistening? Oh, ew. That doesn't sound nearly as sexy as it looks. _Sexy?_ Alright, now who in their right mind would call Shuuichi 'has had sex several times, still acts like a virgin' Saihara _sexy?_ Not him!

He finally stands up. His legs shake. His body shudders, and he already wants to lie back down.

"A-Are you okay…?"

"Huh, huh? Why do you ask? I'm doing peachy keen." Kokichi swiftly dodges the speeding horse. He wasn't sure whether he loved it or hated it the first time he saw it, but he's grown to accept it. It's too fucking funny, after all. What the hell is it doing here? Why would you put a carousel horse this fast around the bed of a love hotel's room? There's so many layers to unpack. It's wonderful.

Anyway, he's not about to delve into feeling things. Not this early. Is it even early? Maybe it's four o'clock, and he's out of his mind. Maybe they slept for a whole year! Just kidding. He's not going to think about how Saihara makes him feel, even with how bumbling and awkward he is, nor will he think about how much his brain is screaming at him to shut the whole arrangement down before he gets abandoned or Saihara begins to hate him. He shuts that door and locks it. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

When he makes it to the showers, he takes a quick look around for soap— and there it is. In the shape of Monokuma's head, a bottle of rose-scented 'three-in-one' liquid soap. Three-in-one his ass. He should've brought his conditioner. He debates not washing his hair, but his highlights fading is better than looking like someone put him in a no-heat tumble drier.

He turns on the water. There's a loud thump.

"Ow…!"

Saihara is hopping on his foot next to the horse's track. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened. The laughter threatens to burst out, but if he isn't careful, he'll really wound Saihara's fragile ego and scare him off.

"Neehee...S-Saihara-chan, you better hoof it, or it'll hit you again."

This earns a dirty look. Kokichi snorts, pushing his bangs back as water pours over him. At least these showers heat up quickly. Cold showers aren't the worst, but it's certainly a plus.

Saihara hobbles his way over to the open shower next to him. It's actually pretty unpleasant having it set up like a locker room, but Saihara's already seen him naked. It's not a big deal, right?

So he showers. There's not much interesting about that. He grabs some towels and dries off, keeping one wrapped around his hair, and by the time he's done, Saihara's still standing under a jet of water, looking distant.

Kokichi blinks.

"...Saihara-chan? Helloooooo? You're awake, right?"

There's a pause before he speaks. "O-Oh, uh— Y-Yeah. I'm fine."

"Monocoin for your thoughts? Juuust kidding, I don't really care." Kokichi IS curious, but he can make a few guesses. Perhaps he's mooning over how much he loves Kokichi? Or he's wondering how he got into the situation. Maybe he's replaying the events of the previous night in vivid detail. He could be considering what the consequences would be if he messed up and got found out? Lots and lots of possibilities, but none of them are interesting enough. So he's not too put off by the idea of Saihara remaining secretive.

"I-It's nothing...sorry."

Of course. A cherryboy is a cherryboy, after all. Saihara isn't looking, so his eyes pan up and down his body while they can. Water coursing down the curves of his body, his arms, his waist, his legs. He swallows. He can't help but remember those hands on him, careful and cautious. It's...making him feel things again, and he doesn't like that. He thinks of salty kisses, Saihara's hair in an iron grip, the way he sounded when Kokichi pulled.

...Aha, but. He was just making fun of the idea of Saihara thinking like that, wasn't he? Another door shut and locked. Bolted, too. He has all the time to think about that later when he's in his room. But he can at least admit that Saihara looks just as picturesque as he did in bed earlier. Something about that man is dangerously beautiful, and he hates how it makes him feel.

He steps into his pants, pulling them in a clean motion up his legs to his hips. He cinches his belt around them, pulls his shirt on. The clasps are a hassle, but he neatly pins his shirt shut. Next is his scarf.

Keeping his mind from wandering is the same as always. He doesn't always have the level of control he wants over himself, but nobody needs to know that. He settles on wondering for the umpteenth time why the people in charge of this would put a love hotel in. It always leads to the same answer scribbled on his whiteboard of _entertainment value(?)_ and it pisses him off. Whoever's got stock in this game, they've got...weird stock.

On the subject of the white board, he ponders, carefully, the word he scrawled under Saihara's picture. _Trustworthy._ Was he, though? Maybe he just was getting too friendly. Saihara was way too simple, and there had to be some kind of layer to him he was missing, but...

Looking for justice so earnestly wasn't so bad. Kokichi wanted a rival anyway. Even if he was a sad sack with an easy-to-break spirit, Saihara was worthy of Kokichi's attention. Maybe because he was the only person who could ever...

...Kokichi blinks a few times until the thought leaves him. No, not even Saihara could figure him out.

Saihara wanders over, a towel wrapped around his waist. Somebody's still got some dignity left, huh? He starts gathering his clothing from the spots Kokichi tossed them to, and Kokichi daintily folds what's in his hands.

"Saihara~chan."

Saihara's buttoning his shirt when Kokichi finally bounces over, a sweet smile chalked across his features. His hands are behind his back, concealing their contents.

"Yes…?"

"So, so! Since you won, I thought I'd give you your reward!"

"W-Won…? Were we playing a game?"

"Uh, yes? Everything's a game here, Saihara-chan. Isn't that obvious?" He makes an annoyed noise, holding out his underwear.

Saihara's face cracks, his antenna resembling a crinkle cut fry. He puffs out air, frenzied attempts at making a sentence. Okay, now that's hilarious. He places it in trembling hands.

"I-I— I don't— Y-Y-You don't have to—"

"Why, does Saihara-chan not want them? I'll take it back, then…"

"N-No, wait—"

"Uwah...Saihara-chan really is a pervert, huh?" He titters. Saihara looks like someone having a heart attack. He stuffs them into his pocket when a look of realization dawns on him.

"W-Wait...you're...then you're not…?"

Kokichi lifts an eyebrow.

"Y-You're not wearing, um…"

"Oh, I didn't bring a change of underwear. It's fine~. I'll just go back to my room and grab another pair! Nobody will notice."

Saihara makes a face that only a virgin at heart could make. Kokichi smiles. If he wasn't in pain, he'd really be up for another round. But! Sometimes he puts his health first.

He heads to the nearest mirror without another word, pulling off the towel. His hair...is passable. He'll fix it up when he gets back to his room. Making sure there aren't any noticeable signs that he's worn these clothes two days in a row, he walks over to his shoes. Slips into them.

He hears him walking over before he says anything.

"Um...O-Ouma-kun…"

"Mmm? What is it now?"

"Can I...C-Can I kiss you one more time, before we leave?"

Kokichi's face doesn't change. His mouth is in a tight line.

"...Well, I guess so." He makes sure to sound as indifferent as possible, a painful throb wrenching into his chest. He turns to face him, looking up. Saihara's raven hair is still a little wet, those soft looking lips tinted red. Must have been chewing on them. He doesn't have the personality to fit his looks, but that's okay. Kokichi can lament the waste of beauty another time.

Their lips connect, featherlight. It's nothing. His feelings, heavy and troublesome, hooked onto each fingertip, hands sagging, shoulders sagging. The weight of it is unbearable, feelings he shouldn't entertain, words he can't say and ideas he'll never express. There are glaring holes, moth eaten tears in the fabric, he's forgetting _something_ but he isn't sure what. Something inside him tells him this won't end well, that he needs to put up more walls, that he needs to distance himself as his body heaves forward, weighted fingers curling around fists of fabric.

Even with his prettiness, Saihara is a man. As his tongue slides into Kokichi's mouth, he wonders if he's lucky, if he's a monster. If he's tricked Saihara into this, if the only way a man can have another man is through coercion. If it was a happy coincidence he met a man stupid enough to want to fool around. The scariest thought is that Saihara loves him too, and not just because he sees what he wants to see in Kokichi. Has he noticed when he's lying? Has he parsed who Kokichi is? No, right? Of course not, right? Who could? The web's so thick, he can't even tell himself.

He wants so much. He wants more than this, more than lust, more than his body. It's selfish, right? It's disgusting, right? Words that have been said so many times, when? He isn't sure. _What kind of self-centered person allows themselves to love? What kind of person would ever impose like that on another? Think that anyone would tolerate them?_ Right? He has to have said it, he knows he has. Saihara's breath is hot, every time he tries to pull away, Kokichi pulls him back in. Gently, he'll let him go if he has to, but he'd hate to.

It hurts. He wants something comfortable. He wants Shuuichi Saihara, skin and bone, nail and tooth.

He finally lets him go.

"Nee-heehee. That was nice! Weeeell, I guess we should leave now. C'mon, Saihara-chan! Stop looking so dopey, or people will start picking on you."

His heartbeat is too intense. He can feel it all over his body, and it makes him nauseous. He doesn't know how to stop it, how to pummel his body into submission until he doesn't tighten in on himself with every burst of blood. Turning the doorknob is painful, and walking out the door makes him feel like he could puke.

But he does leave.

He always leaves.

He makes sure not to look back, makes sure not to let his shoulders shake. This feeling, overwhelming and starved, will eventually fade. He'll make it submit to his will.

He takes Saihara the way he can, in casual arrangements and a promise of no commitment. He couldn't have him any other way.

And that's the truth he swears to.

**Author's Note:**

> might be the last fic for a bit, school started up and i REALLY need to work on my short stories and stuff for that. as for this, uh. thanks to trenchgun for the beta! i've been meaning to write something where i could uh. Kind of talk about the fact ouma is...Gay? and likes men. hopefully that read alright. gomenasorry for the nasty bits, balancing my need to be gross and funny with my angst isn't always easy.


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